


a lifelong wait for a hospital stay

by sakura_freefall



Series: 'cause the hardest part of this was leaving you [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Character Death, Ghost!taire, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Jehan sees ghosts, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prequel, Sad R
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_freefall/pseuds/sakura_freefall
Summary: Grantaire wakes up... except he doesn't.(A sort of prequel to 'cause the hardest part of this was leaving you, from R's POV)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire & Les Amis de l'ABC
Series: 'cause the hardest part of this was leaving you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118507
Kudos: 18





	a lifelong wait for a hospital stay

**Author's Note:**

> prequel time.
> 
> warning for descriptions of gun violence and death.

Grantaire wakes up, except he doesn't.

When he blinks open his eyes he's lying on a hospital bed. There's the faintest bit of light streaming through the windows- early morning most likely.

He can remember the party. He can remember getting shot, and the ambulance and the noise and-

_"Someone call 911!"_

_"Help! Where did he go?!"_

_"Oh, fuck, does he have a fucking gun, call the cops, dammit!"_

_Ambulance sirens. Pain. His stomach feeling like it was sliced open. Screams._

_The hospital. Enjolras._

_"Grantaire please, no, Grantaire, what happened, Grantaire, you need to wake up, Grantaire!"_

_"Surgery?"_

_"Inoperable, nothing we can do..."_

_"Will he wake up?"_

_"I'm sorry."_

_Beeps. More beeps. Pain. The crushing inability to breathe. Flatline. Silence._

_Nothing at all._

Grantaire sits up. Or not. 

Because Grantaire is still lying on the bed, face blank, not moving. Grantaire's head swims at the disconnect, curiosity tingling at his brain. It hits him like a tidal wave, a rush of cold something, dragging him across the beach and back under.

He looks at his hand and he can see the faint outline of the window through it.

He stands up, looking down at himself. He can't feel the air move, can't smell the sharp scent of medicine or the tile of the floor, can't feel the chill of the air conditioning, can't feel anything at all.

He doesn't make any sound when he runs, sneakers not pounding on the floor but instead noiselessly tapping the linoleum. He should be breathing heavily right now, but he doesn't inhale. Doesn't need to.

Something is pulling him.

It's like someone has tied a string to his chest and is tugging him forward through unfamiliar corridors towards-

Towards Enjolras. Enjolras, who's collapsed against the wall, head between his knees, as he sobs, noise catching and gurgling out of his throat like a geyser, like a grotesque fountain. His hair has slipped from its tie and hangs messily around his shoulders, his eyes red and rimmed and far too empty. His mouth makes sounds that no human should make, like he's feeling an emotion that shouldn't exist.

He doesn't see him.

_Enjolras?_

Grantaire's voice sounds loud and quiet at the same time. Like an echo. Enjolras doesn't look up. Grantaire is invisible, silent, and completely undetectable.

Maybe this is his own personal hell. Forced to watch the love of his life suffer and not be able to do anything about it.

He runs his fingers across Enjolras's curls and is both unsurprised and startled to find that he can't feel them at all. Everything feels the same- like dry water, resistant at first but easily giving way with a little pressure.

He's never going to feel Enjolras again. He's never going to feel anything again except for a horrible emptiness that's settled in the pit of his stomach. He wants to wrap his arms around the other boy and never let go and somehow let him know that he's still here, that he's not gone forever, that he can hear him, see him, if not feel him, but he can't because the words get trapped between the real world and whatever plane of existence he's a shadow of.

So instead he moves away, away from the sobs echoing through the building, away from the tugging feeling in his chest, and away from the person he might have hurt beyond repair.

Grantaire doesn't intend to run into the other Amis. He wants to find someplace quiet to- he doesn't really know. Be alone until everything goes numb and he fades into the dark. If he even can do that. 

Fate, it seems, has other ideas.

As soon as he enters the lobby, he wants to run straight back out, but something's holding him there, like invisible roots twining around his legs.

Eponine, Cosette, and Marius are collapsed on the ground, holding each other. Bahorel is slowly tearing up a magazine, swearing like a sailor under his breath. Courfeyrac is openly sobbing while Combeferre looks straight ahead, eyes blank and empty. Joly's not there- at a shift, probably, but Bossuet and Musichetta are, standing in the doorway, hand in hand. Jehan is sitting cross-legged on a table, dabbing their eyes with a tissue.

Because of him. He scans his eyes across the room and sees no sign anyone's seen him. Until Jehan glances in his direction, and it's quick- an impressive attempt to hide it from the others, but Jehan's green eyes go wide for a moment, looking straight at him. They stand up, flicking their head, and Grantaire takes that as an invitation to follow them.

A hospital worker approaches them, and Jehan takes a deep breath. "W-where's the nearest restroom?"

"Right to the left, sweetie," she sighs, sending them a sympathetic glance. Jehan trots lightly down the hallway to the bathroom door, before motioning for Grantaire to join them.

Jehan quickly locks the door and sits down on the floor in a corner.

_Joly's gonna kill you, you know that?_

Jehan tilts their head. "So you can talk."

_Yeah. They can't hear me._

"Well, that's to be expected. Who'd you try and talk to, Enjolras?"

_Yeah. How the fuck can you see me, anyways?_

"I don't know. I always could. First it was my grandma... then, well. Anyways." Jehan's cheeks flush pink. "I think... I've talked to enough ghosts before to know that most of them are here because someone's keeping them here. Sometimes it's a place or a thing, but that's not the norm. And I'll bet you my entire aspidistra collection that you're here for Enjolras."

_What the fuck is an aspidistra?_

"A hardy variety of decorative succulent. But as I was saying... you're tied here because of Enjolras. Eventually you'll be able to move on together, like my grandma once my grandpa died. Until then..."

 _I can't talk to or touch anyone. Or eat. Or drink. Or interact with the physical world,_ Grantaire finishes.

"Well... there's Enjolras."

_He couldn't see or hear me either._

"It may take a little time. I'd suggest not trying anything too soon, it could mess with him mentally too much. Wait until he's stable, then maybe you could try and make contact."

_How long is that going to be?_

Jehan sighs. "I'd give it a month. Give or take a bit."

A month. He's going to have to watch the person he cares about the most suffer for a month, not able to do anything. He hangs his head, trying to keep the tears from spilling out.

"R... I'm really sorry. I can't imagine how hard this is."

 _What about the rest of the Amis? Will I be able to talk to them too?_ With a sinking feeling, Grantaire thinks he may already know the answer.

"I don't think you can. I'm really sorry."

_Can you tell them? About this?_

"They- they'll think I'm crazy. I tried telling someone once. It didn't go well." Jehan shudders and on instinct Grantaire throws his arms around his friend. Jehan stiffens, then relaxes. "Y- you're c-cold, R," they whisper.

 _Oh- I- I'm sorry._ He pulls away, backing into the corner.

"No, I'm used to it," Jehan reassures. "Ever since I met 'Parnasse-"

_Who now?_

"Oh well. No point in keeping it from you. He's- he's my boyfriend. From the nineteenth century. Just... don't ask too many questions."

_Your boyfriend is a ghost. How the fuck is that supposed to work?_

"I guess that's what Enjolras is gonna have to figure out, huh?"

Grantaire shakes his head. _I don't know. I mean, I don't know if he'd want to do that. He should like, m-move on._

"R. You two can cross that bridge when you get there. I have a feeling Enjolras isn't gonna go hook up anytime soon."

_He's asexual, Jehan! He didn't even do... that... with me!_

"You get the point. He's not gonna be like that."

_Maybe. I don't want to be the one holding him back._

"Trust me, it'll be easier for you. Montparnasse can't even talk. He can move stuff a little though. We use whiteboards."

_I don't know what to do. He's... the Amis are going to... they're going to think I'm gone forever. It's n-not fair..._

This time, Jehan is the one to initiate contact, gently stroking R's back. He can't feel them, exactly, not like he used to, but he can feel a warmth easing over him, the first bit of temperature he'd felt since he had died. _That feels good._

Jehan smiles a little. "It'll be okay. Just... it'll be fine. It just takes time. We'll be okay."

Grantaire doesn't believe them, not yet, but he pretends he does, feeling Jehan's words wash over him like a warm bath. He suspects they both know it's not so simple, but at least Jehan cares about him enough to try. And that he's not quite as alone as he thought

It doesn't make him feel better, exactly, but he feels _there_ , and for now, that's the best that he can hope for.


End file.
